


Intimate Expressions

by methylviolet10b



Series: Intimate [5]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Abuse of the French Language, Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 08:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: When Holmes falls ill, Watson tries to speak to him about it. Written for JWP 2019 #7.





	Intimate Expressions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for JWP 2019 prompt #7: Lost in Translation: Use a non-English phrase or quote in today's entry. I used three and a half.
> 
> Warnings: My extremely rusty French. Best intentions going awry. Written in a complete rush. You have been warned.

My friend Sherlock Holmes is a man blessed with the most remarkable constitution. Despite his habitual neglect of his health, and his irregular habits regarding food, sleep, and other necessities of life, he is very seldomly ill. However, he is still human. About six months after we became intimate friends, he fell sick. A wretched soaking during a sleet storm was compounded by several days of fasting while resolving a case. By the time the matter was resolved, my friend was congested, irritable, and running a moderate fever.

As I had rather suspected, Holmes was not an ideal patient.

“It’s nothing,” he wheezed at me from where he had half-collapsed on our sofa. “Just my usual reaction to the end of a case.”

“It is nothing of the sort,” I argued, bringing over the blanket I had draped over the arm of his usual chair so it could warm by the fire. “Holmes, you are ill.”

“ _Mon canard_ 1, you are mistaken. I am never ill.”

I blinked, startled by the French phrase. Holmes was quite fluent in the language, unlike myself, who spoke not a word. I had no idea what he meant by the phrase, but it did not sound complimentary. I pressed on with my point. “I am still a doctor, Holmes, even though I am not currently in practice.”

“Excellent. I don’t wish to be practiced upon, _mon chou_ 2, so thus far we are in agreement.”

I would never experiment on Holmes just to keep up my professional skills. I ignored the implied insult and the accompanying French phrase – probably an epithet, given the way the conversation was going. “Nevertheless, you need a doctor, and you shall have one. If you prefer to have me fetch another physician, I shall gladly do so.”

“ _Tu me prends la tête_ 3,” Holmes muttered as I covered him with the warmed blanket.

“If you’re going to insult me, I’d prefer you did it in a language I understand,” I added, my temper fraying. “Now I have instructed Mrs Hudson to make a strong beef broth for you. After you have finished a bowl, you shall return to your bed, where either I will examine you, or I shall bring in whatever doctor you prefer to treat you.”

Holmes froze with his fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. He stared at me for long seconds. “I’ve been speaking French?” he asked slowly.

“In bits and pieces, as nearly as I can tell,” I replied. “You know I don’t speak the language.”

“ _Put_ 4 \- ” Holmes stopped what he was about to say, drew a deep breath, and promptly coughed. “Damn and blast,” he snarled once his coughs diminished. “I suppose I must be ill after all.” He waved a weary hand at me. “My apologies, Watson; I did not mean to trouble you.”

I shook my head and reached out to touch his face. “It’s no trouble at all, I assure you - ” I broke off as Holmes drew back from me, avoiding my hand.

“No, no – the last thing I should like to do is to cause you to become ill, my dear fellow. It’s bad enough that one of us must be so.” He pushed back the blanket and stood, wavering slightly. “I shall quarantine myself in my room. In the meantime, please ask Mrs Hudson to send for Doctor Baines as soon as it is convenient.”

He said it prettily enough, but the message was plain: Holmes did not trust me to treat him if he was genuinely sick. I felt it as I had once felt the bullet shatter my shoulder: the initial shock almost drowning out the pain that would surely follow. In this case, however, the blow did not render me incapable of further action. “Of course, Holmes,” I said perfectly calmly, turning towards the door. “I’ll tell her now.”

By the time I returned to the sitting room, Holmes had retired to his bedroom, his door closed.

1 My duck – a term of endearment; unfortunately in English, canard is a lie

2 My cabbage – another term of endearment (really!); an Englishman might likely hear 'chou' as 'shoe'

3 Very loosely, “you’re so dumb you’re wrecking my head”, said in the intimate personal form.

4 Holmes was about to cut loose with that classic French epithet _putain_ – but remembered himself and uttered a good solid British damn instead.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 7, 2019.


End file.
